The Door
by Rowan Lyneth
Summary: Aya, having escaped the mansion, and has started up her own "free clinic". Everything has been going well, she believes, but every night she finds herself in a corridor. A hall that leaves her self-aware.


_**Haven't really wrote for Mad Father, but I have to say it's one of my favorite games. Though I've never played it, only watched Pewdiepie play it, but I still loved the story line. I was listening to Greensleeves/Alive and Old Doll and Puppet (fansong for Ib) and I got the image for it, a small bit of an idea and started writing. Most of my stories write themselves, so I just started it and this came out. I for one am proud of it. I think it looks good. Hope you all like it!**_

_**Warning: Dark images you may find disturbing. Putting it as T just to be safe. Though this isn't too terrifying, I still think it can be considered as horror. **_

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**The Door**

She stood in a hallway. The long corridor had a wood tile floor, on which her heels clacked as she preceded forward, a hand on the smooth wall to guide her. It was too dark for her cerulean eyes to see, to make out any form or shape. She wasn't lost, nor did she know where she was. She just knew that at the end of the long, long, hallway was a dead end with a locked door. She would shake the handle, pull it with all her might, push at it with even greater force, and it wouldn't budge. She knew not why. She knew not how.

Taking in a breath of the stale, stale air, Aya stopped to rest. Tonight the journey seemed more grueling. Her feet ached and her mind was dizzy. She slid to the floor, stretching her gown over her knees. She knew her breathing was more ragged than usual. Typically she could complete the journey quickly and easily, but tonight… tonight it seemed as if someone was holding her back, restraining her.

She sighed, huffing out the puff of smoke from her lungs. The hall was chilly. Scratch that, it was icy. She rubbed her arms, feeling Goosebumps rise on their own. This was new. Memory had it that her other escapades in the hall were quite warm and comfortable. There was a noticeable temperature drop which confused Aya greatly. She blinked her dark eyes and rested her head on the wall. Gazing up and forward, she flinched. A pair of bright green orbs gazed back at her. Her breathing quickening, she glanced up and down the stretch. More eyes stared at her, some blue, some brown, some crimson red.

This was also a new development.

Standing up, she cautiously inched toward the green eyes. When she was right under them, she noticed it was a picture. A painting? No. A photograph. The woman had short brown hair, and a lime green dress that matched her oh so beautiful eyes. Aya, unconsciously, reached a slender, soft hand to lightly stroke the page. She recognized this woman. Yes. She was a recent patient of hers.

Upon inspecting, the other eyes held photographs as well, each a previous patient of hers. The girl with the long, luxurious golden hair, the woman with the perfect Cupid's bow lips, the man with the strong arms. Oh yes, she remembered them all. Though the woman with the eyes was and will always be her favorite. Eyes were her favorite body part. They were windows to the soul and spoke the most, even more than a person's petal lips. And so many radiant colors! Not one pair of eyes was truly the same. Not one… not one.

She heard a rip behind her. A rip, a tear, a scream. Aya's heart stopped and she froze in place. Screams, yells, shouts, she was used to all versions of loud noise, but so sudden, in the usually silent hall? Achingly slow she turned, and approached where she thought the location of the noise was. She gazed up. The photograph was torn at the sides, two large gaping holes where the woman's eyes should be and one for the mouth. She heard a light dripping. Drops of crimson fell from the lower frame of the photo. She put a finger under it, caught a drop, and tasted it.

Sweet with a hint of iron.

Before she could react, more screams filled the hall. Filled with a new found terror, she closed her eyes and covered her ears, darting towards the end. She ran faster and faster, but the screams only followed her, until she opened her eyes and actually peered out, to see where she was heading.

A light. A light! A single overhead lamp gave off glorious light in front of the door. Aya's heart sank. The locked door. There were scratched marks on its panels, the large, black, iron handle smoothed off, worn down from the years of pulling on it. It wouldn't open. She'd be stuck in the hall of screams forever.

When she reached the oaken barrier, she threw herself at it, banging on the door with her fists harder and harder until they bled; until her own crimson blood poured out of the open sores and onto the floor, creating puddle after puddle.

She pounded at the door, "Open up!" She screamed, her voice barely louder than the shrieks behind her. "Please! Someone! Open up! Let in me in! Save me someone please!"

Silence.

Sweet glorious silence.

Disturbing sudden silence.

All sound stopped. Aya could almost hear the blood freezing solid in her veins from fear. She sunk to her knees, her dusty white apron getting stained with blood. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, she turned, her back facing the door, rigid and cold. Her eyes traveled upwards. She saw him.

Curly golden hair warming an amber eye. One eye was wrapped in pure white cloth. He had a simple peddler's clothes, but they glittered like silk. His air was regal, but the look she received from that gorgeous amber eye was soft, caring… sad.

"Aya." He muttered. His voice. That vibrant voice. She remembered him. From so long ago, her savior spoke in that same timbre. Her heart fluttered like it did before, warming up with great intensity. "Aya, are you ready?"

Gulping down a thick wad of saliva, Aya nodded, eyes boiling over with hot, salty tears. The boy held out his hand, and she took it, gripping it hard. As she stood to her fullest, she latched onto him in a hug. Shocked, he stood there awkwardly before returning it warmly.

"Don't leave me," Aya whispered.

The boy chuckled softly, "I never left."

Aya's heart swelled, warm and strong. "Thank you… Dio."

Dio nodded, releasing her and taking her hand. "Come on." He smiled and opened the door, leading her through it, never to return to the silent corridor.


End file.
